From a Forest of Bone and Blood | Chapter Twelve

[ar_richardson]

The next morning Jensen awoke stiffly. They had, at Misha’s insistence, bedded down on the floor of his workshop so they’d be ready to go as soon as the ship was ready. When they’d accepted Misha’s offer to sleep there, instead of walking back to town and trying to find a room, Jensen hadn’t realized that all of Misha’s guest rooms were overflowing with tools of his trade. It would have been rude to decline after they’d accepted. Besides, it was only for one night. How uncomfortable could it be?

Very, as it turned out. Jensen groaned quietly. The floor was hard despite all of the cushions and blankets and pillows Misha had lent them. Jared was pressed tightly against Jensen’s left side, his arm draped over Jensen’s chest. As for Jensen’s arm, it was pinned under Jared’s head as if it were Jared’s pillow. Jensen wiggled his fingers and they tingled uncomfortably. On his right, Alona had pressed up against him as well, but she was facing away, wrapped around Genevieve.

Jensen’s back complained about the hardness of the floor and he tried to shift to his side, unable to do so with Jared’s weight holding him down. Jensen’s fidgeting woke Jared, who pressed his mouth to Jensen’s neck, running his lips over Jensen’s stubble. It was strangely arousing - an effect he did not want to experience while cuddled up next to Alona and Genevieve.

“They’re asleep,” Jared whispered directly into to Jensen’s ear. “Think I could take care of you while they slept? You’d have to be quiet.”

Jensen’s breathing sped up to match his heartbeat. “Jared-“ he started to say, but his speech stuttered to a halt when Jared’s hand trailed down his abdomen and cupped his crotch in a firm, altogether inappropriate grip.

“All this time, Jens,” Jared whispered, “and I’ve yet to touch you the way I want to. I really want to see you come undone for me.”

It took all of Jensen’s willpower not to press his hips into that delicious grip. “Jared, stop,” Jensen said, and immediately Jared removed his hand, although he looked disappointed. “Soon, Jensen,” Jared promised, but then doubt crept into his eyes. “Soon?”

“Soon, Jared,” Jensen responded. “But I have to use the bathroom. You need to let me up before I go on everyone.”

“Let him up,” Alona grumbled sleepily, having just awakened during Jensen’s threat. “Please let him up.”

Jared laughed and let Jensen up, who stumbled outside to find a place to handle his business. Once his eyes adjusted to the morning light, all thoughts of finding and using a bathroom fled his mind as he took in the prepared airship. She’d been hosed down and so the metal wings shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Over the ship hovered what appeared to be three orbs, each one tethered to the flying machine by thick, sturdy ropes. On the bow of the ship an intricately carved dragon’s head was attached. Its mouth was open and whoever had crafted the piece had included meticulously carved wooden flames spewing forth. It was stunning, and Jensen just stared at the ship, completely overwhelmed. Now he understood why Misha had called this creation his magnum opus.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Misha called from the deck of the ship. Jensen nodded, surprised that he hadn’t noticed Misha standing there at first. Misha pointed to the orbs. “Remember your fire? It’s there, in those balloons. It’s what’s going to get this baby off the ground.”

Jensen blinked and thought Jared would probably find that fascinating, but Jensen just felt confused. Misha jogged down the steps and stood beside Jensen. The inventor was dressed differently today, in loose cotton trousers and what looked like a pirate shirt, with a long, fringed scarf for a belt. Jensen supposed it was as good of an outfit as any. Who knew what an airship captain was supposed to wear.

“It might be a bit cold up there,” Misha said, pulling Jensen from his thoughts. “Do you have any coats?”

“I don’t,” Jensen said. He tried to remember if any of the others had thought to purchase coats while in Southport. He didn’t think they had. “I think we’ll make do. Perhaps we could bring some of those blankets with us?”

“Oh, of course,” Misha said. “That will work as well. Are your companions up? I can’t wait for lift off. Are you excited?”

Jensen was a little excited. At least he was until he remembered where they were heading to.

“How long will it take to get to Wraithwood?” he asked. “Do you think it’s as bad as the stories say it is?”

“I doubt it’s as bad as all that,” Misha said. “I mean, I’ve heard tales that the rivers run red with human blood. I’m pretty sure that’s impossible. I’m pretty sure that live skeletons don’t walk between the trees either. As for how long it will take to get there? I think perhaps a day, a day and a half.”

Jensen shivered at the talk of skeletons and bloody rivers and hoped that those stories were in fact untrue.

“I’d fly you over the forest itself, but that’s one thing all the stories agree on, and that’s that magic will not work in the forest.”

“It would fall apart,” Jensen agreed. “I understand. I wouldn’t want your airship to be destroyed either.”

“Oh it’s not that,” Misha laughed. “Although that would be a pity. No, rather I’m pretty sure the fall would kill us all.”

Jensen laughed at that; he couldn’t help it. “I suppose that’s a good reason as well. I’ll go get the others up. Oh, hey, when I do - where’s the bathroom?”

Misha laughed again and pointed the way.

***

After breakfast it was time for liftoff. By that time Osric had arrived and firmly established that he was not going with them, assistant or not.

“No,” Osric said. “My feet are staying firmly on the ground, the way man was intended to be.”

“Ah, but you’ve sailed in ships!” Misha countered. Osric sputtered.

“But that’s - that’s completely different!”

“How so?” Misha asked, genuinely curious.

“If I fall off a ship in the sea, I might drown but it’s not absolutely certain that I’m going to die,” Osric said. “If I fall off that - that thing, I’m definitely going to die! No second chances, no suddenly growing wings, no, I’m going to die!”

“Oh don’t be so melodramatic,” Misha said while laughing.

“Comforting,” Alona murmured while mounting the steps to board the ship. “We’re all going to die.”

“Alona!” This admonishment came from Genevieve who was directly behind Jensen on the stairs.

“Well, we might,” Alona murmured under her breath, loud enough that only Jensen heard her.

“Are we all aboard?” Misha asked once Genevieve stood on deck. They were. Jensen glanced to Jared, who was excitedly moving about the ship, trying to figure out how it worked, to Alona, who looked angry about having to fly on this machine of magic, metal and dragon leather, to Genevieve, who looked terrified. Misha walked over to Genevieve and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll be alright,” he told her, his tone soft. Genevieve didn’t respond but made her way to the wall next to the captain’s cabin and sat on the floor.

“Osric, get the ropes!” Misha called down to his assistant.

“Good luck Misha!” Osric shouted back. “Don’t die! I need this job!”

“You ungrateful brat,” Misha said, but he was laughing. Osric untied the lines and with a shudder, the airship started to rise into the air. It felt a bit like they were suspended from the heavens by a rope, swinging back and forth. Misha ran around the deck, pulling ropes and adjusting things here and there, laughing as he went.

“Woo hoo, look at me! I’m an airship captain!” Misha crowed, twirling madly in a circle and nearly losing his balance. He stumbled to the edge of the ship and grasped the railing. Looking down, he turned a bit green before grinning like a crazy person and shouting, “I should probably refrain from doing that!”

“You think?” Alona groused, but she was smiling nonetheless. Genevieve was pressed as tightly as she could against the side of the cabin, her hand over her heart. Jensen, still unsure of the safety of flying himself, cautiously made his way over to her.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, I’m just lovely,” Genevieve said with sarcasm that he would’ve expected from Alona. “Just give me a little bit to get used to it - I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

Jensen gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Well, when you get used to it, come stand by the railing. The view is spectacular.”

The view was spectacular. Jensen found he loved standing next to the railing and looking down at the land passing under them. In only a few minutes they were over the sea, one that had taken them days to cross. Jensen tried to see if he could find the sea-dragon, or if she would take issue with their flight, but there was no sign of her. The skies were calm and the day was sunny.

“Misha says you might want to go sit in the cabin for a while,” Jared said, coming up beside him. “You’re turning a little pink.”

“I don’t care,” Jensen said with a smile. “This is amazing! Can you imagine flying like this whenever you wanted to? I almost hope I am the dragon, just for that reason alone.”

Jared smiled at Jensen and turned his face to the sun, closing his eyes and letting the wind blow his hair into his face. It was a beautiful sight, Jensen thought. He almost wished he could stay here forever, just Jared and him, flying together over the sea.

***

The trip took longer than expected, even with Misha tirelessly piloting them through the night. The purpose of the dragon flame, as Jared learned and relayed to Jensen, was fuel replacement. Instead of filling the balloons with something that would simply burn out, the dragon flame would exist indefinitely inside of the balloons, until such time that Misha decided to extinguish it. The wings controlled which direction the airship turned, and Jared was positively ecstatic the next day when Misha let him pilot for a few hours while Misha got some sleep.

Around dawn they flew over Sheppardston, and everyone crowded the railing to look down. Misha teased them about overbalancing the ship, but the ship didn’t seem to mind them all standing on one side and kept level in the sky. Down in Sheppardston the damage from the Witherkin was still visible, even from the sky, but Jensen noticed scaffolding that had been erected around the breach in the wall, which reassured everyone that Sheppardston wasn’t a complete loss. Jensen wondered what the people on the ground must think of the strange metal flying dragon in the sky. He wondered what Felicia would think of it.

It was nearly dark again by the time they neared Wraithwood. Jensen saw it first - the dead forest was a dark brown stain on the otherwise verdant landscape.

Misha made the airship hover in place that night, far enough away from the forest that he felt comfortable sleeping.

“I don’t want to let you go in there,” Misha said over dinner that night. “You’ve made this maiden flight better than I ever imagined - honestly, I never thought this thing would even leave the ground, much less fly to Mainsail and back. I can’t begin to thank you enough, but I can try.” From the pocket on his vest Misha extracted four pendants on leather ribbons. “I don’t know if these will work, but I made them the night before we set off. They’re warding amulets to protect you against evil. I know magic doesn’t work in Wraithwood, but this is technically anti-magic. “

“Weren’t you worried about them affecting the ship?” Genevieve wondered.

“Huh? Oh, no, it doesn’t start working until it’s worn by a person. And not just in their pocket,” Misha said with a smile. “Also, I have a tent you can borrow in case you don’t make it through those woods in one day and have to spend the night. That way you have to live, so that you can return it.”

Misha looked proud of himself for that, and Jensen couldn’t help but smile. Soon, they were all laughing and pointedly ignoring the dead forest that loomed so large on the horizon.

The next morning Misha landed the ship outside of Wraithwood and watched with a somber expression as the four travelers took their leave.

“Good luck,” Misha said. “I don’t want to say goodbye because I’m afraid it’ll mean you won’t come back.”

“We’ll come back,” Jensen said, trying to be reassuring.

With that their farewells were said, and Jensen, Jared, Alona and Genevieve descended a rope ladder dangled over the side of the ship and stood on solid ground once more.

Wraithwood was waiting.

The forest sat on the edge of the northern plains, where the island began to narrow. Wraithwood stretched from here to the northern sea, which was inaccessible to ships due to its rocky beaches and dangerous cliffs. According to the map the Pool of Restoration was nestled deep in the forest, past the village of Gatewood, which was probably just as dead as the forest that surrounded it.

There was a road here still, not well maintained but decent enough that it wouldn’t shake apart a carriage or make a wheel come off. It ran straight into the wood, no twists or turns - nothing to delay the inevitable.

Jared was carrying the tent in a pack on his back, along with food and weapons. Jensen was carrying his set of throwing knives on his belt and the lute on his back. Alona and Genevieve had their weapons as well. It was the first time they’d felt the need for their weapons since leaving Sheppardston.

Together, they steeled themselves and followed the road into the forest.

They would make it through.

They had to.

***

Wraithwood Forest was inexplicably dark. Overhead, the sun was shining, obscured only by a few fluffy white clouds that dotted the sky here and there, but it was as if the forest was apart from that - as if it were slightly removed from the world and forever cloaked in shadow. The wood was silent as well, the only sound to be heard was the soft crunch of dead, dried leaves under the travelers’ feet as they cautiously entered the forest.

Jensen was hyper-aware of his own breathing. It seemed overly loud in the silence and gloom of his surroundings. He was sure that if he stopped and listened he would hear his heart beat just as surely as he could hear his breathing.

The trees were mostly leafless. The leaves that did grow were small, withered things that clung tenaciously to the branches that spread their skeleton-like arms towards the sky.

“Anyone else for turning around right now and leaving?” Alona asked, her tone only slightly joking. She looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, her arms crossed over her chest and her hands running up and down her arms as if she were cold. She remembered her weapons then, and her hand went to rest on the hilt of her sword, the same one she’d wielded in the battle against the Witherkin. That seemed so long ago.

“This place - it’s - I don’t know, but it’s wrong,” Genevieve said. She bent at the knee and crouched low, placing her hands on the forest floor. Her fingers dug through the leaves and pressed into the soil and she closed her eyes while she breathed deeply. “Feel this,” she said.

The other three did as Genevieve instructed, kneeling or crouching and placing their hands on the ground.

“This place was cursed by dark magic,” Jared said. Jensen could feel it too, a creeping sensation just below the surface. There was sadness there, and anger as well.

“I think we just announced our arrival,” Alona said. She looked from one person to the next, her eyes wide and nervous.

“We did,” Jensen confirmed as a gust of wind sprang up without warning, winding its way through the trees and scattering dead leaves and other detritus as it went. Under his hand the ground almost seemed to pulse, and a feeling of apprehension coiled low in his belly. “Let’s hope this forest isn’t as haunted as the stories would have us believe.”

Jared lifted his face, meeting Jensen’s gaze with his own. His eyes were filled with the same apprehension that Jensen felt. A long moment of silence passed between them.

“I think it is,” Jared said.

“So do I,” said Genevieve.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t linger here, then,” Jensen said. “The road is still here; let’s follow it for as long as we can. It is heading north, right?”

Jared pulled the compass Misha had given him out of his pocket and scrutinized it.

“Yes. Yes it is,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Jensen said. “Let’s get going.”

“You call this a road?” Alona complained. As far as roads went, this one was less than ideal, but then again, it had been years since anyone bothered with the upkeep. Tree branches hung low over the road, brought down by storms and snow. Some branches had broken off and now lay strewn across the path, causing Jensen and company to climb over them to continue on their way. The road itself was uneven and strewn with ruts and gullies from water running over it unchecked. Large chunks of rock lay here and there, some mostly buried in dirt and dead leaves. Before too long the road was gone, surrendered to the decay of the forest.

They kept walking. After a while the trees became thicker, closer together. Jensen felt like there were eyes on him. He could sense a presence - maybe more than one - watching him. He was tempted to put his hands on the earth again and try to see what more he could sense, but he didn’t think that was a good idea. Out of the corners of his eyes he kept seeing shapes, flitting from tree to tree, keeping pace with the travelers as they walked.

“Do you see-“

“Don’t acknowledge it,” Genevieve said softly. “Don’t try to look at them.”

“What are they?” Jared asked. Jensen could tell it was taking considerable effort on Jared’s part not to investigate. “Do you know?”

“They are our sisters,” Genevieve said and her voice carried a wealth of sorrow. “Our sisters and our brothers, but I don’t sense any life from them.”

Dryad ghosts, Jensen thought, Wonderful.

“Let’s just get as far as we can before nightfall,” Jensen said.

“Agreed,” Genevieve whispered.

They walked in a line, Jared first, with Alona and Genevieve behind him and Jensen bringing up the rear. Jensen tried to pay attention to their surroundings in case a threat appeared, and at the same time tried not to see what was lurking just outside his vision.

He was only moderately successful. Sometimes a form would dance into his line of sight, looking like some sort of paper stick figure a child would draw. They were long and spindly creatures, and if they were dryads then they were more sinister tree than benevolent woodland spirit.

Night came early to the Wraithwood. They barely had time to set up their camp before it was pitch black. Surprisingly, they still had the ability to use their dragon fire, which lit a merry little campfire in front of their tent. Around them, the previously quiet forest seemed to come to a sort of half-life at night. Jensen swore he could hear people or animals moving through the forest in the crunch of the leaves and the snapping of branches. Genevieve stayed outside long enough to eat their meager dinner and then retreated to the confines of their tent, as if the flimsy fabric would protect her from whatever was moving through the trees.

Jared insisted on keeping watch for the first half of the night. Jensen wanted to stay up with him and keep him company but agreed that they should probably split the night between them. Jared kissed him goodnight - as promised he’d done it every night, and Jensen and the girls curled up in the tent and tried to sleep.

Sleep was a long time coming.

***

“Jensen,” Jared whispered. “Jensen wake up; it’s your turn to keep watch.” When Jensen didn’t respond, Jared started to shake him. Jensen resented being woken up when it had taken him so long to fall asleep, but he fought his way to consciousness nonetheless.

“So soon?” Jensen groused. “I swear I only just closed my eyes.”

“It’s been longer than you think, Jens,” Jared said on a yawn. “The forest has gotten noisier, but nothing has come close to our fire. Thank the Gods.”

Jensen stepped outside of the tent and stretched. The fire had died down a bit and there was a noticeable chill in the air. He would probably add some fuel to the fire to keep it burning through the night. He briefly entertained the thought of waking up one of the girls to come keep watch with him, but then if Jared had been fine than Jensen should be as well.

“Goodnight, Jared,” Jensen said as Jared closed the flap that served as the door. “Sweet dreams.”

“Not likely,” Jared whispered from inside the tent. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough.”

That was enough to set Jensen’s skin to prickling and he rubbed his arms with his hands. It was more of a self-comforting gesture than meant to warm him. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and settled in for his watch. Was that frogs he heard croaking? Perhaps the forest wasn’t as completely devoid of life as it appeared. Jensen thought about it and realized that while he had seen insects on the trees earlier, there had been no birds and certainly no wildlife. Jensen took his dagger from his boot and toyed with it, holding it between his forefingers and balancing it on the back of his hand before flipping his hand and catching the blade before it could hit the ground. He kept his eyes alert, letting his gaze dart from here to there, following the line of light cast from the fire and not really wanting to know what really lay beyond its cozy glow.

It was subtle at first, just a gentle wind that blew through the forest and set the trees to swaying. The branches scratched against each other and the trunks of the trees creaked and groaned. Then it was a whisper, his name blown about the tops of the trees as they bent close to tell each other secrets.

“Jensssssssennnnnn.”

Jensen had heard of this phenomenon in forests and dismissed it out of hand. Sometimes the wind blew through the trees; it was the human mind that tried to arrange the sounds into something familiar.

“Jensssssssennnnnn.”

Alright, that had definitely been his name that time. Oh well, he could ignore it. As long as whatever it was that whispered his name didn’t venture any closer - and how he wished they had thought not to use their own names while in the forest - he would be alright. He was half tempted to wake up Jared and ask him if he’d heard his name being blown about the treetops, but then he heard Jared’s soft snores and decided to let him sleep.

At the edge of the fire’s glow, where the light was swallowed up by darkness, he thought he heard footsteps. Jensen stood and grasped his dagger tightly in his hand, holding it in front of himself protectively. There it was again, the soft crunch of steps on dead moss, the rustle of dried leaves as they were pushed about.

“Who’s there?” he demanded to know. The only reply was the croaking of frogs and more rustling of leaves. Jensen’s heartbeat sped up; he could feel his adrenaline kick in, causing a tingling in his fingertips and a rush of heat to his face.

“Jensssenn,” said the voice again, this time just outside the firelight. “You’re ignoring your sister. Come to me.” The voice was feminine, a low alto tone, soft and sultry.

“Who are you?” Jensen said. “Show yourself.”

A figure crept forward; close enough to be illuminated by the firelight but still far enough away to be cloaked in shadows. Jensen gasped. She was statuesque, taller than either Alona or Genevieve and dressed in a loose, flowing gown that clasped over one shoulder and left her slender arms bare. The firelight danced over her frame, and as she lifted her face from shadows, the light caught in her eyes - mossy green depths that seemed to tug at Jensen’s very soul. Jensen steeled himself against the magnetism of her gaze, dagger still held aloft. Woman or ghost or monster - whatever she was, Jensen couldn’t be sure and he wasn’t about to take any chances. Still, her beauty was ethereal, and Jensen couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over her supple form and the sweet swell of her lips.

“Jensen, you come to my forest but you don’t know me? My forest needs your help - it’s dying.” She held out her hand toward him, the firelight playing across her pale green skin, and then Jensen knew what she was. Dryad. A living, breathing dryad, and probably the only one left alive in all of Wraithwood, surrounded by the specters of her loved ones for company. “Yes,” the woman breathed. “See, my love, you know me.”

“How - how can I help you?” Jensen asked, taking a step toward her. The hand that held his dagger swung down to his side now that he’d ascertained that she wasn’t an immediate threat. “Who are you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, my name is Alaina, but that’s neither here nor there. Do you feel better now that you know my name?” Alaina’s voice was soothing, and Jensen had to admit that yes, he did feel better knowing her name. He stumbled a little as he moved toward her, but that wasn’t important. Her voice settled deep in his chest and filled him with warmth. She was a dryad; he was a dryad, at least in part.
Alaina pressed her hand to Jensen’s chest, looking up at him with wide, lovely eyes. Jensen looked deep into those eyes even as her slim hand took ahold of the amulet he wore draped around his neck. She cradled it in her palm and examined it closely, almost caressing it as she lifted it closer to her face.

“Lover, what’s this?” she asked. “Can I have it?”

Yes, of course she could have it. It would probably help protect her from the evils of this forest. Jensen nodded. “Take it,” he whispered as his forehead touched hers and her other arm encircled his waist. Something heavy fell from Jensen’s hand and landed with a quiet thud on the ground, but Jensen couldn’t remember what it was. It probably wasn’t important.

“Thank you,” Alaina whispered as the leather ribbon around Jensen’s neck decayed into dust. The amulet still rested in her hand, and she closed her fingers around it.

“We’ll have no need of this,” she said, and when she opened her fingers again the amulet was also reduced to dust. She turned her hand and let the dust pour down, down, down to the ground. That was alright, though. If Alaina said they wouldn’t need it, then it must be so. She drew him closer to her, until his body was flush against hers and he could feel all of those enticing curves.

“You should kiss me,” Alaina whispered as she rubbed her hand over the small of Jensen’s back. The long, graceful fingers of her other hand stroked through Jensen’s hair, the touch tender and gentle. Jensen blinked slowly and rested his hands on her hips.

“If you command it, then I shall do it,” he said, and for a brief second he wondered why he should kiss her. Wasn’t there someone else he usually kissed instead?

No, of course not. His lover was Alaina, and he would follow her wherever she needed him to go. His brain felt a little muddled, but that didn’t matter when Alaina put her hand on the back of his neck and drew him down so that his mouth covered hers. Her lips were soft and cool, and when she opened her mouth to him, letting him lick inside with his tongue, his body shivered when he realized that she wasn’t quite as warm inside as she should be. Perhaps dryads ran cold?

She pulled away from him, breaking their kiss and pulling at his shirt. She smiled at him, and though it was a lovely, breathtaking smile, something wasn’t right. Something stirred deep in his psyche and made him want to pull away even as she drew him deeper and deeper into the woods.

“Remember the forest when it was young, my love? How we’d all dance together and there was nothing but joy here? You can help me bring it back,” she said as he followed her. Jensen’s legs felt heavier with each step forward, as if he were walking through quicksand. The very air around him seemed to thicken, making it hard to draw breath.

“Just a short ways longer, my love,” Alaina whispered, holding him close again as if to help him through the forest. “Just a little longer now, and I promise you will feel better. You’re my hero, remember? You’re saving my forest. Do it for me, lover.”

“Yes, of course,” Jensen breathed. Around them he could see what looked to be fairy lights, flitting in and out of his vision, and he knew they were here to witness their tryst and bless their union. He heard water running as he was led into a small clearing, and the moonlight above reflected on a stream that burbled merrily through the forest.

Water, he thought. Wasn’t I looking for a pool? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts but he was drawn back, always back, to the deep pools of Alaina’s eyes. Perhaps that was the pool he was looking for. Of course it was. It had to be.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” Alaina said, pushing against his chest until he complied. “Let me comfort you.”

“Jensen!”

The voice invaded his consciousness and helped clear his thoughts a little, but then Alaina was on top of him, straddling him, and who could blame him for ignoring whatever distractions were trying to deny him this?

“Jensen!”

Jared. He knew that voice - knew it well. Wait, he thought, this isn’t right.

“Shhh, Lover, I won’t let them take you,” Alaina said and turning her body she growled low in her throat. She lifted her hands and started to weave her fingers through the air. Some sort of energy emanated from her fingertips, glowing bright blue as she wove a tapestry of light around them. It was beautiful, and reminded Jensen of a summer sky.

“Jensen! Fight her!”

Jared wanted Jensen to fight her? Why? She was lovely and Jensen was going to help her save her forest. Why would he fight that? Why would anyone fight that?

Alaina leaned forward, resting her chest against Jensen’s and buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent.

“You’ll do nicely. My poor sisters and brothers will love you too. Of course they’ll have to share you, but every little bit helps.” Alaina pushed up into a sitting position, still on top of Jensen and splayed both hands against Jensen’s chest.

From where her hands rested, fingertips pressing down into his diaphragm, he felt tendrils of agony spread out, burning through his body and sinking deep into the ground underneath him. It was similar to the way he could touch the earth and feel the Mother, but then again it was nothing like that. This was dark and twisted and horrible.

Jensen screamed as the pain intensified, boiling in his chest like water left over a flame. His skin began to glow with the same blue light as Alaina had used to weave their protective shield, and that glow began to seep down into the ground. Suddenly he knew what was happening, but he couldn’t move, even to save his own life. He could feel himself weakening further as the forest fed on his life force, as it sapped his strength and his vital energy.

Jensen had been played for a fool. He’d been tricked. He’d been bewitched.

He’d been stupid, and now he was going to die.

“J-Jared,” he managed to croak out.

“No!” He heard Jared shout, echoed by two feminine voices that could only be Alona and Genevieve.

“Go find her tree!” Jared shouted. “Burn it down!”

“What? No!” Alaina jerked away from Jensen at the threat and the light that surrounded them faded back into darkness. Jensen groaned and tried to move, but he was very weak now and could barely raise his arms. Alaina was moving away from him now, her back turned to him as she prepared to protect her tree.

He saw Jared’s silhouette as he rushed toward him, no doubt to try and help Jensen. Alaina saw him coming and her eyes flared orange. One hand snapped up in the air and with a rush of wind, Jared was pushed back against the trunk of the nearest tree. Alaina stalked over to Jared, her power still holding him pinned against the tree. Jared struggled against the hold, but it was of no use.

“You should be a gentleman and wait your turn,” she hissed at him, grasping his face in her hand and squeezing mercilessly. Jensen winced. That had to hurt. “But now, I’m not even going to allow you the honor of feeding my forest. You are just going to die!”

“Jensen!” Alona shouted from some distance away. “Where is her tree?”

“It’s near here!” Jensen managed to shout. “Everything in this grove is alive! It has to be here!” He struggled to roll onto his side and then push himself up into a sitting position. Reaching down to his belt , he loosed one of his throwing knives, aimed, and let the blade fly.

The knife lodged securely in the dryad’s back and she shrieked in pain and turned back to face Jensen.

“You traitor!” she screamed. “How dare you attack me?”

Jensen flinched, for the beauty that had enchanted him when he’d first seen her was long gone. Wraithwood the forest was decaying, and with it Alaina, its lone living dryad, was withering away as well. Her cheek, which had been full and soft under Jensen’s fingertips when he’d kissed her was now sloughing off, and he could see the line of her teeth through ragged muscle all the way back to her back molars. Jensen felt his stomach heave at the thought that he’d kissed that.

Jensen’s vision was going dark, but he fought for awareness long enough to see Alona and Genevieve find an ancient, partially rotten tree and place their hands on it in obvious concentration.

“No!” Alaina screamed, her mouth opening incrementally wider than should have been physically possible. She held up one hand - parts of it were patchy and brown - rotten, just like her tree. Her eyes were still beautiful though, and they filled with tears. “Please, please don’t destroy my tree! I have to save my forest, I have to feed the trees! Please!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Alona and Genevieve brought their dragon fire to bear on the tree, which went up like so much kindling. If the tree had been alive at all, it was only barely so.

As the tree burned, the dryad’s form began to shrivel. It was ghastly to behold as the firm supple flesh sucked in to cleave to the bone, and then it was as if Alaina herself had been set on fire, and she screamed as the fire consumed her from feet to head. It went on for several long seconds, but the forest was quiet after it happened, except for the frogs. Jensen could still hear the frogs croaking. He sighed, content in the knowledge that his friends had rescued him, and that they were probably going to be alright, provided nothing else was lurking in Wraithwood that wanted to suck their life force.

Jensen’s eyelids suddenly felt too heavy, and in the next moment he succumbed to the darkness inside his head.

Chapter Eleven | Chapter Thirteen

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